Nocturn
by Pawthorn
Summary: You are not wrong, who deem that my days have been a dream; yet if hope has flown away in a night, or in a day, in a vision, or in none, is it therefore the less gone? Arthur's dreams seem to be connected to strange happenings in the waking world. Is it all in his head, or are dark forces at work?
1. The Fall

_(AN: The quote in the description is from Poe's Dream Within a Dream. I hope to update this in a few days. Enjoy!)_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin_

* * *

The early morning sun gleamed brightly on the armor of the two men riding swiftly down the forest trail.

"Come on, Your Majesty," the larger man called back to his trailing companion, "You're going to make Gwaine a much richer man at the rate you're going."

"I ought to have him arrested. Betting against his king…" Arthur urged his horse on, gaining slightly on the knight in front of him, "I think putting him in the stocks for a day or two is justified, wouldn't you agree?"

The big knight laughed.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, Leon bet on you. And Merlin as well."

"It doesn't," the king said firmly, even as he fought back a smirk of satisfaction, "_Mer_lin shouldn't be betting on anything. He throws enough of his money away in the tavern; he doesn't need to waste any more. Although, in this case, I think he made a rather safe investment. Hyah!"

Arthur's horse suddenly burst forward, quickly overtaking and passing the knight in front of him. As the king looked back, laughing, he saw a small animal—a squirrel or a rabbit—dart into the path. It sprinted just in front of the mount behind him. The horse panicked, rearing wildly. Its rider was caught totally off guard, and flew from the saddle. Arthur watched in horror as his friend landed hard and a sickening crack rent the air. His brain clamored in denial, but his heart already knew.

Percival was dead.

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Arthur's eyes snapped open. He stared at the darkness around him, heart pounding, mind racing. Blinking, he turned his head to the side. There was Guinevere, sleeping peacefully beside him. The first rays of dawn were slipping through the curtains, illuminating the royal chambers. No forest, no horses, no races, no dead knights…

The king closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing.

_A dream, _he thought firmly. _It was only a dream._

* * *

By the time Merlin and Gwen's maid, Edith, arrived to prepare the king and queen for the day, Arthur had decided to put the dream out of his mind. It had been more vivid, more real than most dreams, but stress and exhaustion were likely to blame. He was determined to push the memory of it aside and get on with his duties. As the day went on, his heart grew lighter as the dream faded from his mind. By the time he set out for the fields to train with the knights, it was all but forgotten.

Until he reached the fields and found that none of his knights were there.

He didn't notice it at first, because there were plenty regular knights there, but _his_ knights— his vanguard, his round table knights— were nowhere to be seen. His brow creased in confusion as he weaved in and out of sparring warriors, trying to spot one of his friends.

"Arthur!"

Merlin, who had returned to the physician's chambers after finishing his morning duties, was sprinting toward him. Arthur's stomach dropped slightly at the look on his servant's face.

"You'd better come quickly," the servant said breathlessly, "Gaius' chamber… Percival."

Arthur's stomach jolted, and he turned and strode quickly toward the castle, Merlin on his heels.

* * *

Upon reaching the physician's rooms, Arthur was unsurprised to find his missing knights, along with Gwen and Gaius. Elyan was leaning against the wall near the fireplace, with Gwen standing beside him, hand resting comfortingly on his shoulder. Leon stood on the other side of the room—it looked as though he had been pacing. Gwaine sat, unusually subdued, across from Gaius, who was leaning over a still form on a cot. Everyone glanced up as the king entered the quiet room. Leon crossed to Arthur immediately, like the soldier he was, ready for orders.

"What happened?" the king asked quietly, moving further into the room, "Is he…"

"He's alive," said Leon, "He's been like this all day. At first, we thought he was just having a lie-in. We had… a bit of a late night yesterday." Gwaine smirked slightly. "But then it was nearly time for training, and we tried to rouse him…"

"He wouldn't wake," Elyan said from his place by the fire, "We called to him, shouted, shook him, even emptied a pitcher of water on him, but…"

Arthur noticed now that Percival's hair and shirt were damp.

"He didn't even flinch," said Gwaine quietly.

"Can you tell what's wrong with him, Gaius?" Merlin asked, moving to stand beside Gwaine.

"It's strange," Gauis sighed, "He seems to be in perfect health. He has no injuries, no insect bites, no sign of sickness…" the physician shook his head, stepping back from his patient, "As far as I can tell he's just… sleeping."

"Sleeping," said Gwaine, skeptically. He lifted Percival's arm by his wrist and then dropped it. It fell to the table with a dull thud.

"Sleeping _very_ deeply," Gaius amended, raising an eyebrow at Gwaine.

"Could this be caused by magic?" Gwen asked.

"As I said, Your Majesty," Gaius answered, "I don't know what would cause this, magical or otherwise."

"Do what you can, Gaius," said Arthur, still looking at Percival, "Explore every possibility. Merlin, I want you to help him," his manservant nodded, "And let the rest of us know if there is anything we can do to help."

The other knights voiced their willingness as Arthur swept out of the room. His mind was in a whirl. He tried to control his racing thoughts, but it was no use. He was panicking. Arthur had dreamt Percival's death, and now Percival was down, stricken by an unknown force. Had he predicted this? Had he caused it? All his knights were loyal, but Percival's loyalty had come most quickly and freely, and to think that Arthur himself had somehow caused this malady… Maybe he ought to tell Gaius about his dream…

No. It was a coincidence. It had to be. There was no point in causing anyone to worry. Percival would likely wake on his own, or Merlin and Gaius would soon find a way to help him wake. They had never failed in the past. His dream was a dream, nothing more.

_It was only a dream._


	2. The Beast

_(AN: I should mention, this is set between series 4 and 5. Enjoy!)_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin_

* * *

"You don't know how good it is to have a hunt with someone who doesn't crash around, scaring all the game," the king said fervently.

"You shouldn't let it bother you so much," his companion replied, chuckling, "I think he does it just to torment you."

"What, you think Merlin is actually capable of stealth?" Arthur sneered, "Trust me, we've been hunting countless times, he'd be quiet if he knew how."

"That's not what he told Gwen," the other knight replied, smirking.

"I see," said Arthur, in mock anger, "Those two think it's good fun to laugh at their king behind his back. Well, I'm glad I have you to spy on them for me. Otherwise, I might have a rebellion on my hands."

"Now don't go telling Gwen I told you," the other man replied as they moved through the forest, "I've been trying to stay on her good side all my life. You wouldn't _believe_ the things that turned up in my bed after I accidently broke her doll once." He shuddered.

Arthur was about to ask for more details when he heard a rustle in the bushes ahead. He couldn't explain the rush of panic he felt upon hearing it. Something wasn't right. They were in danger. He didn't know how he knew, but there was a shadow of a memory… something bad that had happened… that was going to happen again… but what?

The king was just raising his spear and moving to edge in front of his fellow knight when it happened. A mass of fur and teeth and claws shot out into the open, streaking past Arthur and launching at his companion. It happened so quickly, a snarl, a scream, a splash of crimson…

Elyan was dead.

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Arthur woke with a gasp.

_Just a dream_, he told him self firmly, _Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream… _But he couldn't keep his mind from straying back to the dream, to another dream, to Percival lying still and silent…

To Elyan's dead eyes.

Arthur eased out of bed, careful not to disturb his sleeping wife. He wanted to go check on Elyan, to wake him and calm his fears, but how would he explain himself? He could just picture Elyan's face blinking owlishly, looking at him in confusion.

_"Arthur, why did you wake me?"_

_"Oh, you know… just… to see if I could…"_

The king could only imagine what his knights would think of _that_. Instead, he stood and went to his desk. It was almost dawn, no point in going back to sleep. He would get a head start on some of the reports that were piled on his desk. He chose one and started reading.

When the door of his chambers opened an hour later, he was still staring at the same line.

Merlin walked directly to his master, while Edith threw him a glance before going to rouse Gwen.

"Trouble sleeping?" said Merlin, quirking an eyebrow.

"No, not at all," Arthur replied casually, "Just, you know, lots of work. Wanted to get an early start, plough through some."

"Right…" Merlin looked pointedly at the mounds of unfinished work, "How's that going for you?"

"Shut up."

* * *

Five minutes later, Arthur was dressed and headed to Elyan's chambers. The castle was awake and busy; it wasn't too early to call on one of his knights. He would go in, assure himself that Elyan was alright, and make up some excuse… like an early morning spar, or a hunt…

Arthur's stomach jolted uncomfortably, and he forcibly cleared his mind.

The walk to Elyan's room seemed longer than usual, and when he finally reached the door he hesitated before knocking. Then, shaking his head at his own folly, he shoved aside his doubts and rapped firmly on the door.

There was no answer.

"Elyan?" he called, worry rising at the silence within the room. Perhaps Elyan had already left for the morning… Arthur knocked once again, "Elyan," he said, with more volume and urgency. Then, with a quick glance to either side, he hesitantly opened the door.

Any hopes he had of Elyan having already woken and left flew from his mind immediately, as he glimpsed Elyan asleep in his bed. Arthur paused just inside the door.

"Elyan?" he called. The knight didn't even flinch. Worry mounting, Arthur closed the distance between himself and the sleeping figure.

"Elyan," Arthur nudged the knight's shoulder.

"_Elyan_," the nudge became a shake.

"_ELYAN_," Arthur was shouting now. He grabbed his friend by both shoulders and shook him. Still, the sleeper did not respond.

"Arthur?" Gwaines voice echoed down the corridor, followed by running footsteps. Arthur turned to see Gwaine and Leon, along with a handful of other knights and guards, appear in the doorway. "What's going on?"

The king backed away to reveal Elyan's sleeping form. Leon and Gwaine rushed forward.

"He didn't answer the door... I can't wake him..." Arthur started. Leon reached out to shake his friend, but Gwaine was already in motion, grabbing a silver pitcher from the beside table and throwing half it's contents over his sleeping comrade.

Elyan's eyelids didn't even flutter.

* * *

The physician's chamber was as quiet as a house in mourning. Leon and Gwaine had just left to search the rooms of their fallen comrades for anything suspicious. Gwen sat by her brother, who had been placed on a cot next to the one where Percival continued to sleep. The queen stroked her brother's hand as Gaius finished his examination. At a nearby table, Merlin continue to pore over ancient tomes, looking for a cure. Occasionally, he glanced at Arthur who leaned against the hearth and stared into the flames, lost in thought.

"It's as I expected," Gaius sighed, "I can find no traces of injury or illness. I cannot explain why Elyan will not wake."

"But could this be some sort of magical illness," said Gwen anxiously, gripping her brother's hand tighter, "Could it be catching, spreading?"

"I wish knew," said Gaius sadly.

"Have you found nothing?" said Arthur, turning from the flames, not bothering to keep the accusation from his voice, "No possibilities? No idea of how we can stop this?"

Gaius looked taken aback, "I'm very sorry, Your Highness. We're exploring every possibility, but unless Leon and Gwaine come back with more evidence, we have very little to go on."

Arthur huffed in frustration, "Keep looking. Let me know what you find." He turned and swept out of the room, trying not to look at his motionless knights or his worried wife.

He was nearly all the way down the hall before he heard footsteps behind him. He had half expected Merlin to follow him, but he didn't slow his pace to wait for the servant.

"Arthur!"

The king slowed his steps and turned, reluctantly. His manservant jogged forward to meet him. Merlin stood across from the king, staring hard into his master's face.

"Well?" Arthur said impatiently.

"What did you need Elyan for?" Merlin asked casually.

"What?" the question caught Arthur offguard.

"This morning," Merlin's tone was light, but his eyes were sharp, "You went to see Elyan, and he wouldn't wake. Why did you need to see him?"

"I… I needed…" Arthur's mind was blank, "Why do you need to know?"

"Just curious."

"Well, with everything that's happened, I can't even remember."

"Really." Merlin didn't look at all convinced.

"Yes, Merlin," Arthur glared, feeling defensive, "Is there a problem with that?"

"No, sire," Merlin's expression closed, "Not at all."

* * *

That night, Arthur lay awake, staring at the ceiling long after Gwen had drifted to sleep in the comfort of his arms. He didn't know what was going on. Maybe he should have told Gaius about his dreams, but he didn't see what good it would have done. True, there had been nothing unusual in either of the sleeping men's rooms, and Gaius couldn't find a reason for this unnatural slumber. Maybe knowing about the dreams would help somehow...

But Arthur didn't want to tell anyone. He didn't want to be connected with his knight's infirmity, didn't want anyone to think that he was having prophetical dreams. Because he wasn't. His nightmare didn't have anything to do with Elyan. It was a coincidence. It was just a dream.

If he said it enough, it would be true.

_Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream…_


	3. The River

_(AN: This one's a bit longer. And yes, I've borrowed some concepts from other films and t.v. shows, especially Inception, which will start showing up more in this chapter. This fic isn't finished, but I'm devoting a lot of attention to it. It'll probably be 6 to 8 chapters long, and I'll try to post the next one in the next few days. Enjoy!)_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin_

* * *

"What?" Arthur realized someone was speaking to him. He blinked, taking in his surroundings. He was on his horse, riding slowly through the forest. The late afternoon sunlight was streaming through the trees. Next to him, his fellow knight was riding along with him, smiling.

"Am I boring you, Your Worshipfulness?" his friend flipped his hair and threw him a lopsided grin.

"Um…" Arthur was incredibly disoriented. He didn't really understand where he was, or how he got there. All he knew was that it was wrong, strange… unreal…

Flashes of half remembered nightmares flew through his mind. His foreboding crescendoed and pain shot through his head. He gasped and leaned forward in his saddle.

"Hey," his companion dismounted and grabbed Arthur's reins, "Hey, Arthur, what's wrong? Are you hurt? Talk to me, my friend."

Arthur grunted as a confusing slurry of memories assaulted him. He didn't fully understand what it all meant, but it all amounted it one screaming thought: They were in great danger.

"We need to get out of here," Arthur forced the words out through clenched teeth.

"Ooookay…" the other man pulled himself onto his horse, "Where are we going?"

"Not here," said Arthur, straightening and turning his horse, "Anywhere… back to Camelot."

"Right…" the knight was looking at the king with a mixture of confusion and concern, "Care to share _why_ you're raring to leave this place?" Arthur didn't answer. "Or we could just leave… Never liked this forest anyway. Off we go."

The king barely heard him as he tried to sort out his thoughts. Something about Percival and Elyan… they were dead—no, of course they weren't, but something had happened. They were… in Gaius chambers because Percival… had broken his back… and Elyan… wouldn't wake up…? He couldn't think straight!

Soon, a rushing and bubbling sound reached his ears. The two riders broke out of the woods onto the shore of a swift moving stream.

"Arthur… is it just me, or is there a river here that wasn't here before?"

He was right. Arthur knew this river; he'd crossed it before, but it was far north in the kingdom. It should not be where it was now, between him and Camelot. He could see the city's towers rising in the distance, tauntingly close. This stream—which was deep and notoriously difficult to ford—stood firmly in the way.

"Well, stranger things have happened," his companion shrugged and urged his horse forward.

It was like something clicked in Arthur's head and he suddenly knew why his thought's were unclear, why this river was unsafe, why the man with him was in danger.

"Gwaine, stop!"

"What's the matter, Your Graciousness, are you afraid of getting a little wet?" the knight teased, not turning or slowing his horse.

"Get out of there. Now. It's not safe."

The king's tone must have caught the Gwaine's attention, because he glanced back slightly.

"Arthur, we've got to get you back to Camelot, and this seems to be the only way," his horse was almost up to it's chest in the water already, "This stream might be being where it oughtn't be, but I doubt that makes it dangerous."

"We won't be able to reach Camelot no matter what," Arthur shouted, "This isn't real. This is a dream. My dream, maybe yours too. Think, Gwaine! Can you remember how we got here, what we were doing out here? I can't."

Gwaine pulled his horse to a halt and turned to look backward. He was far away now, maybe mid-stream, but Arthur could still see him blinking, as if just waking up. If only.

"Do remember what happened to Percival and Elyan?" Arthur spoke fervently, "Same thing's going to happen to you if we don't stay together and stay safe. So come back."

Arthur saw the realization dawn in Gwaine's face for a split second. Then the knight's face scrunched up in pain and he clutched his head.

"Gwaine!" Arthur was sure that his knight was experiencing the same headache and confusion Arthur himself had felt earlier. He just hadn't been in the middle of a river when he had felt it. Gwaine doubled over, clutching his saddle.

Arthur was about to ride into the stream to help when it happen. A loud snap sounded from above, and Arthur looked up to see a heavy tree branch fall into the river. It gained momentum as it was carried downstream toward Gwaine, who was still absorbed in pain.

"Gwaine, move!" Arthur shouted, but it was too late. He could only look on in horror as the branch slammed into the horse and rider, knocking both beneath the current with a tremendous splash. Foam rose as the horse thrashed frantically, regained its footing, and sprinted off on the opposite shore. Its rider was not so lucky.

Arthur spurred his horse towards the river, scanning it desperately for any sign of Gwaine. There, a flash of a red cape, near the bottom, moving downstream quickly. Arthur flowed it, trying not to think about the fact that Gwaine was wearing armor, that the horse had probably kicked his skull in, that he had gone too long without breathing already. Arthur followed the speck of red as closely as he could, waiting for the chance to dive in after his friend, but the current was too fast. Gwaine would be swept far downstream the moment Arthur got off his horse to try to reach him. Still, Arthur pursued the flashing cape until the inevitable moment when it flickered out of sight amid the shadows and reflections of the river. Arthur finally admitted what he had known the moment his friend had.

Gwaine was dead.

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Arthur surged out of bed, on his feet before he fully knew he was awake. He strode out of the room quickly, paying no heed to Gwen's sleepy, questioning voice. His heart was hammering, his stomach weighted with dread as he made his way through the empty corridors. He could vaguely hear Gwen calling after him and other voices joining hers, but he didn't slow his pace. Reaching his destination, he pushed through the door, not bothering to knock. One look at the sleeping figure before him—who hadn't stirred even as the door banged open—told him all he needed to know. He paused for a moment, letting the cold resignation settle, and then turned away.

It was easy to dodge the people and the questions that met him at the door; they raced past him as soon as they saw Gwaine. Arthur continued down the hall, wishing he could leave the nightmare behind him.

* * *

Gwen found him, like she always did. Arthur was impressed, since he hardly knew where he was himself.

He had traveled through the castle sightlessly after finding Gwaine unwakeable. Eventually, he had found himself standing on one of the tallest battlements, staring into the forest below. The forest he had dreamt of. The one he had seen his friends die in.

"They've moved him to Gaius' chambers," Arthur didn't turn or acknowledge the queen's voice, "Everyone's upset, Merlin especially. No one knows what's going on, why this is happening."

The king continued to stare ahead, though now he was blinking rapidly.

"Arthur," Gwen's warm touch on his shoulder reminded him that he was only wearing the light shirt and pants he slept in. It was autumn. There was a chill in the air that promised frost, and the clouds were appropriately somber.

"Tell me," his wife said quietly, sliding one of her hands into his and using the other to gently chaff his arm. She didn't move or speak any more, just stood, waiting.

So Arthur told her. Each detail of every dream, he set before her. He kept his eyes fixed on the forest, but the words were for her. She listened patiently to his halting speech, not interrupting when he paused to swallow back nausea, or to force back tears of anger, grief, and guilt. At last, he had finished, and she drew him back into the warmth of the castle. She didn't waste her breathe on useless platitudes, she simply kept her arms around him and guided him. The spike of panic he felt at the thought of going to the physician's chambers eased when she turned instead toward their quarters.

"I'll tell them what they need to know," she murmured with a final embrace before leaving him just inside and closing the door as she left.

Arthur wandered listlessly over to a chair. He sat, keeping his mind carefully blank as he stared at a spot on the floor.

When the door opened sometime later—a minute, an hour, or more, he couldn't say—Arthur knew who had entered without looking. After all, only two people would come in without knocking, and he could tell it wasn't Gwen standing silently in the doorway.

The moments stretched on. Neither man spoke. The silence was instead broken by soft footsteps. Arthur was surprised when, instead of approaching, they moved toward the bed. He heard a few clunks and rustles, and then turned in surprise at the sound of tearing fabric.

Merlin was standing by the bed. His face was drawn and pale, eyes rather wild. The knife in his hand only added to his frenzied appearance.

"Merlin!" Arthur shouted as he stood and quickly crossed the room to his friend. The servant had done some strange things in the past, but this topped them all. This was almost unreal—

The thought made Arthur stop in his tracks, terrified for a moment that he had dozed of accidently, and this was another dream. But no. He remembered every moment of the day—as much as he wished to forget—and though he couldn't explain why, he felt sure that his next sleep would find him in the forest once more.

Merlin's expression would've been proof enough that this wasn't in his head. He had never seen such a mixture of grief, disappointment, and anger on his servant's face before, nor could he have imagined such a look. But Merlin only spared him a glance before returning to his work. All of the bedclothes had been thrown to the floor. Merlin had used the knife to make a long silt in the mattress right where Arthur slept and was currently feeling through the stuffing, sending feathers into the air.

"Merlin, what do you think you're doing?" the king didn't want to get to close to the manservant, who seemed to have forgotten about the knife in his hand.

"It wasn't under the bed." Merlin replied shortly.

"What? Merlin…"

"It's got to be here somewhere, I just have to find it." The servant turned from the bed to examine the pillows on the floor, studying each carefully before violently ripping it open as he had the mattress, "Damn!" he hissed dropping the pillow and the knife he had accidently sliced his hand with.

"Merlin, you idiot!" Arthur shouted in concern, "Let me see."

"No."

"Merlin, don't be stubborn."

"I said _no._"

"You're being a girl, just let me—"

"_Don't_. Just… don't."

The manic energy seemed to drain out of Merlin as he pulled a scrap of fabric from the many now littering the floor. Arthur forced himself not to interfere as the servant clumsily wrapped it around his hand. He watched in silence a Merlin began looking over the pillows again, much more slowly and methodically than before.

"You knew," the servant's words were steady, but quiet, barely above a whisper, "You knew your dreams had something to do with…" Merlin swallowed, "And you didn't say anything."

"I didn't know—"

"Maybe not after Percival. But you suspected. You went and checked on Elyan. I _asked _you about it, and you said nothing."

"What difference would it have made?" Arthur raised his voice in defense.

"It would have made all the difference in the world!" Merlin turned to face the king and matched his shout, "Even if you had at least let _yourself_ accept it. Didn't it make a difference once you realized it was a dream? What if Gwaine had known too? He could've prepared, been on his guard. It was like leading him into battle without a sword, Arthur. You were both defenseless in there, because you chose to be," the servant took a steadying breath, "And the worst part is _why_ you didn't tell us."

"I told you, I wasn't sure…"

"Try to pass that off on someone who doesn't know you like I do. When you're unsure about problems or plans or anything, you talk. You talk to me, to Gwen, to Gaius. But you didn't say _one word_. And the only time you do that is when magic is involved."

Arthur's involuntary flinch destroyed any hope he had in arguing the point.

"I don't know why," Merlin continued, "I don't know if it's fear or pride, but God forbid anyone mention the name Arthur Pendragon in the same breath as magic. It's like you'd rather risk yourself and your friends dying than talk about it. I'm tired of it, Arthur. You're better than that."

The words hung in the air and silence settled for a few moments as master and servant considered each other.

"Are you never going to learn the proper way to address your king?" Arthur asked, looking up hopefully. To his relief, Merlin's face broke into a subdued smile.

"You'd better hope not, sire."

The two men shared a small grin before turning from each other. Arthur tried half-heartedly to fix the ruination that was his bed, while Merlin continued to examine the pillows and sheets.

"Merlin, I need you to know," Arthur didn't turn to face his servant as he spoke, "What it was like in there, in these dreams… I truly don't believe knowing would have helped. The knights would've… they still would have fallen."

His manservant didn't answer for a moment.

"Maybe," said Merlin, "I can't tell what would've happened in your dreams. But I can tell you that we would've found _this _a lot sooner."

Arthur turned to look. His servant held one of the pillows. The with it's cover removed, Arthur could see a strange symbol stitched onto the plain fabric: five interlocking circles of different colors. A large spiral seemed to have been painted over it in a dull reddish brown. It seemed Merlin had found what he was looking for. The king's spine tingled unpleasantly as he reached out to touch the substance use to make the spiral, which crumbled and flaked under his fingers. It was blood.

* * *

"I can't believe I've been sleeping on that." Arthur said in disgust. Merlin snorted quietly, while Gwen and Leon smiled.

"I wish I could say otherwise, sire, but yes, you would have needed to sleep on it for several weeks for the spell to have taken effect," Gauis said absently. They were in his chambers with the three sleeping knights. The physician was bent over an aged book, comparing the image on the pillow to symbols of the Old Religion, "If it makes you feel any better, I don't believe the blood was added until a few days ago, when the dreams started."

Arthur cringed.

"Well, at least we have a starting place now," said Leon, "After all, not many people have access to your chambers, Arthur."

"You're right," the king replied, "Merlin, do you know who would be in a position to do this?"

The servant looked surprised at being asked, then shifted nervously.

"I couldn't say for _certain,_" he said, looking uncomfortable.

Arthur sighed, "I'm not my father, Merlin. I'm not going to go execute the first person that comes to mind."

"Right, sorry, I know," Merlin blushed, "It's just hard to think of her doing this, you know?"

"Not really, Merlin, as you haven't told us who your talking about," Arthur said pointedly.

Merlin started to pace a little, wring his hands.

"We had worked out a deal. She would do the rooms if I would do the running. Said she was shy, that I knew that castle better. So I would bring the food, she would set it out. I would get clothes from the laundry, she would put them away. I would bring the clean bedding, she would make the bed. There's no way she could've missed that on the pillow," he stopped pacing and looked at Arthur guiltily, "I'm sorry, Arthur. I should've known."

"Merlin, what are you talking about?" the king said, shaking his head in confusion.

"Edith," Gwen whispered, looking shocked, "My servant. She was new to Camelot, and she wanted to serve me so badly… she was quiet but we got along alright. Oh, God," Gwen's eyes widened.

"What is it?" Arthur asked in concern.

"She left," Gwen stood, nearly growling in frustration, "Oh, I'm such a fool! She came to me yesterday. Shaky, tearful. Said she was afraid that the knights were ill and that she was frightened of catching something from them. I was so upset about Elyan, I didn't even question it. She left yesterday at mid-day. She could be anywhere by now."

"I doubt it," Merlin said, shaking his head, "She's put a lot of work into this. She won't leave without seeing it through."

"Leon, dispatch patrols," Arthur ordered, "Search the city and the surrounding forest."

"Yes, sire," the knight turned to leave. Arthur felt a spike of fear course through his chest.

"And Leon," he called. His old comrade turned back to face him. "Just… be on your guard."

A small, understanding smile lit Leon's face as he nodded and left the room.

"Gaius," Arthur said, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice, "Is there any chance that this is over? Now that I won't be sleeping on that… thing anymore?"

"I doubt it," said Gaius sympathetically, "The shedding of blood usually seals a spell. The only way to stop it now is to defeat the one who cast it or find a way to break it. That's likely why she left in such a hurry. Until we can identify the spell she used, all we can do is deal with its effects." Gaius cast a sad glance over the sleeping knights. He had been keeping them clean and healthy, feeding them a nourishing broth and moving their still limbs, but they already starting to look like shadows of their former selves.

"Don't worry, Arthur," Merlin said, moving to the table and beginning to thumb through another old book, "We'll find something."

Arthur nodded and turned to leave the room.

"Where are you going?" Gwen called after him.

"If I'm going to be staying awake all night, I might as well help the night watchman patrol the walls," he smiled a little ruefully, "After all, I couldn't use my bed even if I wanted too. Isn't that right, Merlin?"

He closed the door on Merlin's guilty face and Gwen's suspicious, "What is he talking about? Merlin?"

With a grim but determined smile, he walked away.


	4. The Ambush

_Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin_

* * *

He knew it was a dream right away. Maybe it was because he had accepted it, like Merlin said. But Arthur thought it had more to do with the fact that he was standing in about two feet of clean, white snow. He spun in a slow circle, observing the frost covered branches of the trees surrounding him. Eventually, his eyes landed on a familiar figure standing not five feet from him.

"Leon," he called. The knight turned quickly.

"Arthur," he replied, looking around in confusion and concern, "Is this…"

"A dream?" Arthur offered, "I'm afraid so."

"I see," Leon nodded, scanning the trees, "So, there's probably something out there waiting to kill me."

Arthur's stomach somersaulted.

"Yes," he choked out the word, "But maybe we can make it through. If we hold out until we can wake up, that might break the spell."

Leon nodded, looking resigned rather than reassured.

"I'm sorry, Leon," Arthur shook his head, "I tried to stay awake. I don't understand what happened. Hell, I don't understand _anything _that's happening—"

"Sire," Leon interrupted firmly, "I have pledged to stand with you and fight beside you. That hasn't changed. Waking or sleeping, I am a knight of Camelot. Till the end."

Arthur swallowed, lost for words. He simply looked at his first and most loyal knight for a long moment before nodding.

All at once, the long, bellowing cry of countless voices shattered the frozen silence. Figures burst through the trees on all sides. Arthur and Leon immediately drew their swords and turned, back to back.

The fighters weren't talented, but they were bloodthirsty, and they were many. Arthur half recognized them—they were a strange and terrible mix of the countless mercenaries, bandits, and foreign soldiers he had fought over the years. Maces flew, spears clashed, and swords flashed. The swarming horde attacked from every side, every angle.

_Wake up!_ Arthur thought furiously, _Just wake up!_

But his panicked pleas had no result. He let them go and focused on his sword and shield, on keeping himself and his knight alive. There was no reality beyond striking, blocking, and dodging. He tried to lose himself in the fight and ignore his growing panic. But he was tiring already from the relentless onslaught, and he could feel Leon faltering behind him, and the enemy _just kept coming_, and there was no end in sight—

Then he heard it. The scraping of a sword against armor, the sickening sound of a blade piercing flesh and bone, the wet splash of blood.

The gasp of a dying friend.

Arthur turned and managed to catch Leon. As he looked into the knight's empty eyes and the horde of soldiers closed over them, Arthur despaired. It was impossible, unthinkable, but now, because of him…

Leon was dead.

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"Sire," someone was shaking his shoulder, "Sire, wake up."

Arthur sat up with a gasp. The first thing he noticed was the cold. He blinked in confusion at the guard before him, whose worried face was lit up by the newly dawning sun. No wonder he was so cold—he was out on one of the castle walls, sitting on a stone bench. Maybe the cold had something to do with the snow in his dream—

His dream.

Arthur took a steadying breath and put his head in his hands as the memory of his dream came rushing back to him.

"What happened?" he asked the guard.

"I don't know, Your Majesty," the man replied timidly, "I left you sitting there while I walked down the wall to check in at the next post. You told me not to let you sleep, so I woke you as soon as I got back. I wasn't gone five minutes, I swear."

Five minutes. It might as well have been five hours. The damage was done.

* * *

"Here it is," Gaius' voice was subdued, as he held out one of his old books for Arthur to take. The physician, Merlin, and the king and queen were once again gathered in Gaius' chambers, trying to ignore the four morbidly still figures lying nearby. Arthur looked at the symbol on the page before him. It was the image that had been stitched into his pillow.

"The Five Fold?" Arthur read, "What is that?"

"It's a symbol of the Old Religion," Gaius explained, "It's a sign of strength, protection, of life. You see these four circles?" The physician indicated the yellow, red, blue, and green circles, which interlocked, forming a diamond-like shape, "They represent the four elements—Air, Water, Fire, and Earth—and all of their associations. Spring, summer, autumn, and winter; the sword, the spear, the caldron, and the spear; Vitality, clarity, passion, and order; the list of related qualities is endless."

"What about that one?" Arthur asked, pointing to the circle in the middle, which seemed to have been stitched with fine silver wire.

"The center circle," Gaius nodded, "That represents another element, one of the Old Religion: Aether. It's a spiritual force symbolized by the cord. It binds and moves through all of the others, changing and being changed as it goes."

"What about the symbol drawn over it?" Merlin asked, "What does that mean?"

"Well, the Five Fold alone began the spell," Gaius explained, "For weeks, it absorbed Arthur's thoughts and feelings while he slept. Each ring became representative of someone in his life that he relies on, those that ride out with him every time he faces danger—the ones who've continually risked their lives for him."

A cold weight settled in Arthur's stomach. He looked at his still, lifeless knights, and then at the center, final circle—the one that bound all of the others together. It was all too obvious who it represented, who would next appear in the cursed forest with him.

"The second phase of the spell began when the blood was painted over the symbol" Gaius continued, "Spirals were very important in the Old Religion. Drawn one direction, they represented life, harmony, and the sun. Turning the opposite way, they symbolized manipulation of nature—unmaking and unwinding."

"I'm guessing that one's not a sunshine," Arthur said, pointing to the bloody smear on his pillow.

"I'm afraid not," Gaius replied with a wry smile, "The combination of the unraveling spiral with the Five Fold symbol produced a powerful spell. In essence, the sorceress is unwinding your defenses and attacking your sleeping mind. As each of your protectors falls, you lose control more control of your will. Once they all fall…"

"What?" Arthur pressed "I die? I become some sort of puppet?"

"I'm not quite sure," Gaius replied, "This spell is old; it's hard to find anything written about it. But I think we should avoid finding out."

"Agreed," Arthur replied, "So, what exactly is happening to them? The knights. Once they… die in my dreams, why don't they wake up?"

"Again, I wish I knew," the physician sighed, "My guess is that the essence of their beings—their minds, spirits, and energy—is being collected. It takes great power to overthow a mind. An ordinary sorcerer would likely need the energy of five souls to do it. So, as your hope is broken down by witnessing the loss of your protectors, the power of their spirits is being gathered to use to overpower your mind."

"That's cruel," said Gwen, anger flashing in her eyes, "And cowardly. It's twisted—"

"It's magic," said Arthur grimly, "How do we stop it?"

"I gave you a book, sire," Gaius replied, smile spreading across his face, "I suggest you start reading."

* * *

An hour later found Merlin and Arthur still pouring over books in the physician's chamber. Gaius had gone on his rounds. Gwen, having taken Edith's betrayal quite personally, was in the lower town leading the search for her wayward servant.

"How do you and Gaius _do_ this?" Arthur said, rubbing his eyes, "The dust and these books—I mean, none of this has anything to do with curse on me. There's a line about spirals here, a mention of Five Folds there, but nothing _helpful_."

"Well, that's why we've got to keep at it," Merlin sighed, "Amongst all the useless drivel, there may be something worthwhile. Now stop complaining, and start reading."

Arthur stared at the book in front of him for a few more seconds before standing abruptly.

"I can't do this anymore," he said throwing his hands up in the air, "It's dangerously boring. I'm afraid you're on your own, Merlin. Anymore of this will put me to sleep, and we can't have that."

"Don't worry, sire," Merlin replied, smirking, "If you doze off, I'm sure I can come up with a creative way to wake you _very_ quickly. Now stop making excuses; you're not the only one who's tired."

"What reason have you got to be tired?" Arthur said, sitting down and putting his feet up on the table.

Merlin flushed slightly, looked down, and muttered something into the pages of his book. Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry, but I didn't quite catch that," the king smirked, "Why don't you say it again, only this time try _opening_ your mouth when you—"

"Gwenstolemybed."

"Gwen? She stole your—"

"Bed. Yes. Thanks to what you told her. She said she wanted to be closer to Elyan anyway, and since I had 'thrown a temper tantrum' and ruined her bed, it was only fair that she take mine," the servant made a face, stretching his back, "Gaius wouldn't let me use one of the sick-cots either. Seemed to think it was fitting for me to sleep on the floor."

"I thought you were used to that, from growing up."

"Well, mostly, but Gaius has been waking up to check on the knights. He kept stepping on me."

Arthur snorted as his servant sullenly flipped through yet another book, "Merlin, I think you—" He cut himself off short as Merlin sat bolt upright, staring intently at the words in front of him.

"What? What did you find?" Arthur said anxiously and moving to stand at his servant's shoulder, looking down at the page before him, "I don't see either of those symbols."

"No," agreed Merlin, "Nothing about them specifically, but about dream magic. It says here that if a dreamer is continually drawn back to the same location, then that place has played some part in the spell in the waking world."

"Meaning…?"

"It could be the source of the spell, or any number of things according to this. But there will be physical evidence of the curse—an enchanted object or a drawn symbol—and if we destroy that—"

"It'll break the spell," said Arthur, grinning, "I think we should go see what the forest looks like in the light of day."

* * *

_( AN: The Five Fold symbol is real, and I hope its description makes sense to everyone. Also, it's rather hard to describe that a spiral is moving inward counterclockwise in a story set before clocks were invented, but I hope I got the point across. To learn more about either symbol, Google them—that's what I did. If you know a lot about old Celtic symbols and I got something wrong, I'm sorry—but I bet your used to mistakes from the actual show anyway ;) As always, I hope you're enjoying this, and there'll be another chapter up in the next few days.)_


	5. The Arrow

_Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin_

* * *

"So what exactly are we looking for here?" Arthur asked, dismounting and looking around.

"I'm not sure," Merlin replied as he followed suite and patted his horse absently, "It could be a symbol drawn on the ground or carved into a tree. Or it could be an amulet, a staff, an orb of… something magical."

"So, you have no idea."

"Not a clue. But we'll know it when we see it."

"How can you be sure?"

"We'll find it, Arthur, don't worry."

"Alright, but stay close. Edith is probably lurking around here somewhere, guarding the source of the spell."

The two wandered through the forest, looking high and low, pushing aside branches and undergrowth, and scouring the wooded area for any sign of magical working. There didn't seem to be anything unusual or out of place; the witch had hidden her magic well. After what must have been hours of searching and scrounging, the afternoon sun grew hot above them. Arthur felt as though he was covered in pine needles and sap, and he had started to sweat.

"Merlin, did you bring any water with you?" he threw the question over his shoulder.

His servant didn't answer. Arthur looked back to see his servant standing stock still, eyes wide, look of intense confusion on his face.

"Merlin—"

"I don't remember," the words bubbled out of Merlin in a rush.

"What?" said Arthur, stepping toward him.

"I don't remember if I packed water," Merlin met his eyes, a look of rising panic on his face, "I don't remember packing anything. Or getting the horses. Or riding out of Camelot. How did we even get here?"

Arthur felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach.

"Merlin, your hand…"

The servant looked down, examining the smooth, unbroken flesh of his palm. The same one that he had sliced open yesterday.

Merlin looked up at Arthur almost frantically. Then his eyes focused on something just beyond the king's shoulder.

"Arthur!" he yelled closing the distance between them and barreling into his master.

As he fell, Arthur felt something whistle through the air just above his head. He heard a dull, wet thud and a strangled sound of pain. He saw his servant fall beside him, limp on the ground. Hot rage and cold grief collided in his chest because his closest friend was—

No. Arthur slammed his eyes shut. He wouldn't accept this. This was not happening, could not happen, not again. He would not let it happen.

Merlin was _not allowed_ to die.

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"Arthur!"

The king's head shot up. He was back in the physician's quarters, still sitting with an old book in front of him.

"Sire, I need your help with him!" Gaius' voice was quaking with exertion and barely controlled panic. He was kneeling on the floor, holding down the thrashing form of—

"Merlin!" Arthur shouted as he ran over to the two men.

"Hold him," Gaius ordered, "Try to protect his head."

With that, the physician swept across the room, and Arthur was left on the floor, trying to hold onto his friend while getting his first full look at Merlin's condition.

He didn't like what he saw. Merlin's frame was wracked with shuddering convulsions. His eyes were darting frantically beneath his lids, breaths coming in uneven gasps. Heat was coursing from the servant; sweat was starting to soak his hair and clothes. It was the Mortaeus flower all over again, but added years of friendship and loyalty made the gnawing fear in his stomach much, much worse.

Gaius returned, and soon Merlin was resting on a mattress and pillows on the floor. He was thrashing too much to be put onto a bed. Gaius tried to get him to drink a sleeping draught, hoping it would calm his restless body, but Merlin's movements were too erratic. Most of the potion ended up on the floor and sheets, and what little found its way into Merlin's mouth was chokingly spit back out.

"What is this, Gaius?" said Arthur, shaking his head as he looked down on his servant, "What's happening to him?"

"I was hoping you could tell me, sire," Gaius replied sadly, "When I arrived, you both were asleep. I tried to rouse you, but neither of you would wake. Then, Merlin started convulsing, fell onto the floor, and… well, you know the rest."

Arthur put his head in his hands and tried to think back, beyond his horrible dream to what had happened, why they had fallen asleep.

"Merlin found something," he said finally, "There's something in the forest—the one I keep going to in my dreams. We don't know exactly what it is, but if we find it and destroy it, it should end all of this. We were going to go look for it but… Merlin wanted to wait until you got back. He didn't want to leave the knights alone when they're so defenseless. I agreed, so we stayed. We must have fallen asleep…"

Arthur fell silent, cursing his own foolishness as he thought of the dozens of things he could have done to prevent this. But none of that would help anything now. He cast his self-recriminations aside and proceeded to tell Gaius about his dream.

"Why would the arrow be fired at me?" Arthur asked after all had been told, "I mean, it worked, but shooting at me doesn't seem like the most logical way to kill Merlin."

"Doesn't it?" Gaius asked, giving the young king a hard look.

Arthur lowered his eyes, unable to answer the question. If someone shot at Merlin, the servant could dive out of the way and avoid being hit. Firing at Arthur was the only sure way to send Merlin running _toward_ the arrow without a thought of his own safety.

"Was there anything different about this dream?" Gaius asked, "Something that changed, that hadn't happened before."

"I didn't accept it," Arthur said after a moment of thought, "With all of the others, I knew that they were gone, and that I had failed them. With Merlin… I don't know. I decided that he wasn't going to die so… he didn't."

"I see," said Gaius, "Well, that would explain his state. In his mind, he's been shot with an arrow, and his body is reacting to it. I believe he will be trapped in this state until the spell is broken."

Gaius sighed heavily, passing a hand over his eyes.

"What?" Arthur asked nervously.

"You and Merlin have bought us time, but not much," said Gaius, "As long as Merlin maintains control of his spirit, the sorceress cannot complete the spell, and you'll be safe, Arthur. However, the way Merlin's body is responding, he'll soon be exhausted. There's too much strain on his heart and organs. And if I cannot get food or water into him… he likely won't last more than a day."

Arthur's stomach lurched unpleasantly.

"Well then," Arthur said, casting a glance at the window, "I'd best get going whilst there's daylight left," he stood and walked toward the door, "Do what you can for Merlin and the others, Gaius. I'm counting on you."

"Arthur!" Gaius barked, "You cannot go alone!"

"I won't be," Arthur said resolutely, "The spell didn't take everyone."

* * *

When Arthur had explained the situation to Gwen, she had suggested they ride out with a full contingent of knights, but Arthur had refused. There wasn't time, and they would need stealth more than strength on this mission. So instead of an armed force, only the king and queen entered the forest, walking side by side. Both were dressed in simple fighting gear. Both carried deadly blades. Both wore identical looks of determination.

Staying close together, the pair began scanning the ground and surrounding trees. All they had to do was find the source, destroy it, and this nightmare would be over. But this search was turning out to be as fruitless as the one in his dream, and Arthur was quickly losing patience.

"Where is it?" he hissed, spinning in an agitated circle and running a hand through his hair.

"I believe this is what you're looking for."

Arthur and Gwen spun toward the soft voice. There stood a young woman, timid and mousy as she'd been as their servant. In her hand, she held a clear, roughly hewn crystal. White light was streaming and pulsing over it. There was no doubt that it was the object that drew his dreams to this place.

"Edith," Gwen's voice was rough with barely contained rage, "Hand that over to us. Now."

"My lady, why are you fighting this?" the sorceress looked genuinely confused, "You know the pain and devastation the Pendragons have wrought. They killed your father, they drove the Lady Morgana to madness, they nearly executed you for sorcery—"

"_Arthur_ didn't do any of that," Gwen said firmly. She shot Arthur a glance and then began walking toward Edith, keeping the sorceress' line of sight away from her husband.

_God, I love her,_ Arthur thought fervently, even as he used the distraction to edge away and grip his sword.

"You love him, I know," the servant told Gwen patronizingly, "But you are better without him. That's why I protected you from the enchantment. You can help me use him to rule. Together, we can bring magic and peace back. The time of the Pendragons is over. It ends now."

Suddenly, the girl's hand flew up toward Arthur.

"_Swefe nu!_" she shouted, eyes blazing gold.

Arthur didn't hear Gwen's cry as he crumpled to the ground, forced out of the waking world and into another nightmare.

* * *

_(AN: Only a bit more to go! Thanks again for reading, and special thanks to those of you who have reviewed :)_


	6. The Last Nightmare

_Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin_

* * *

He lay on the ground for a moment, disoriented. The canopy of trees above him swayed in the gentle afternoon breeze. The leaves were rustling, birds were singing, but there was another sound quite close to him that disturbed the peaceful atmosphere—the sound of painful, labored breathing. He looked to the side.

A tattered brown jacket. A red scarf. The back of a head covered in a mess of dark hair.

"Merlin!" Arthur bolted up and grabbed the servant's shoulder, pulling him onto his back.

Blue eyes, dulled in pain, skimmed over Arthur's face. A smile quirked on pale lips.

"Sav'd you… 'gain," Merlin said breathlessly. Arthur couldn't help but let out a slightly hysterical laugh.

"Sorry, but I don't think it counts," Arthur replied, trying to keep his voice light, "This not being real and all."

"Feels… real," Merlin ground out, face folding.

All levity flew from Arthur's mind, as he finally allowed himself to look down at Merlin's torso and survey the damage. The arrow was buried deeply in the servant's chest. Arthur pulled Merlin's shirt back to examine the wound. Blood was seeping and vivid bruising was forming around the shaft, but Arthur knew that there was even more damage inside. Normally, the arrow would have to be removed, the wound cleaned and bandaged. But Arthur had dealt with arrow wounds before. Men often died while the arrow was being taken out. It was dangerous and extremely painful, and he didn't think Merlin would be able to pass out to escape the pain. So instead of attempting field surgery on a wound that wasn't real anyway, Arthur simply gathered Merlin into his arms, trying to quell his friend's shuddering convulsions.

"Why're you… still here?" Merlin asked groggily.

"Why, sick of me already?" Arthur returned.

Merlin raised his eyebrows, looking strangely like Gaius for a moment.

"I did wake up for a few hours, but we then went after the source. In the real world this time," Arthur said, talking to distract Merlin from the pain because he couldn't think of what else to do, "We found Edith, and she had this glowing crystal thing. Gwen was talking to her to distract her, and… well the good news is that Edith genuinely likes Gwen, so she's safe. The bad new is, the witch hit me with some sort of spell. Sent me back here."

"Why?" Merlin asked.

"Well, this whole thing is about despair, isn't it?" Arthur avoided Merlin's eyes, "She sent me in here to see you in pain. I lose hope, you die, she wins."

"Well… tha' doesn't… sound v'ry… good," Merlin said, mouth quirking.

Arthur stayed serious, "Well she obviously doesn't know me very well if she thinks I'd knowingly give up on you."

As if in challenge to his declaration, Merlin's body started to shudder still more violently. The involuntary spasms tore gasps for pain from the servant. His eyes screwed shut, and his face lost what little color it had. Arthur gripped his friend's hand, trying to give him an anchor from the pain.

"You said… she h's… cryst'l?" Merlin said, wrenching his eyes open again.

"Yes," said Arthur, surprised. He hadn't thought that Merlin was aware enough to pick up on that.

"Glow'ng?" Merlin asked, looking far more intent than Arthur would've thought possible, considering the circumstances.

"Yes," the king answered again, wondering where this was going. Merlin stayed silent for a moment brow creased in thought.

"Arth'r… I think… cryst'l… knight's spir'ts," Merlin's voice dissolved into a coughing fit. Arthur propped his friend up higher and tried not to panic at the blood he saw gathered at the corner of the wounded man's mouth. So worried was he that his servant's words took a few long moments to register.

"What?" he asked, "You think the knight's spirits are in the crystal?"

Merlin, whose eyes were shut tight once more, gave a small, jerky nod.

"Will breaking it hurt them?"

Merlin shook his head.

"Free th'm." He forced the words out quickly as his body curled in and another wave of coughs—deep and wet—tore through his chest. There was no ignoring the definite blue tinge of the servant's lips, nor the blood specks that now stained both his and Arthur's shirts.

"Just breath, Merlin," Arthur said bracingly, "Don't try to talk anymore, alright?"

Arthur tried to remember that all of this was a dream—that Merlin wasn't really dying. But it didn't feel like a dream. It felt real. It felt like his friend was slipping away in his arms, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. He gripped Merlin's hand tighter, blinking rapidly and trying to swallow down the lump lodged in his throat.

Merlin _was _dying. The arrow might be imagined, the pain entirely in his mind, but Merlin's real body was fading as surely as the dream one. Gaius said he wouldn't last long. What if he was already dead? But no, Merlin was alive, here with him, fighting for every breath. But, couldn't the spirit survive without the body? What if this was all there was left of his friend?

No. Merlin was alive and fighting, just as Arthur was fighting for him, and Gwen was fighting for both of them. Just a little longer, and Gwen would destroy the crystal. They would both wake up along with the knights, and they would all be alright. Just a little longer…

But it was so hard to watch Merlin suffer like this.

"L't… me go…Arth'r," said Merlin, eyes still closed.

Arthur looked down at his servant in disbelief.

"Merlin…" How much pain must Merlin be in to ask that of him? "Just rest. It'll be over soon, you'll see, Gwen will—"

"Please."

The whimpered word sent Arthur over the edge.

"Listen, you idiot," he said through gritted teeth, "You've been kidnapped by slavers, attacked by wyverns, set upon by mercenaries and sorcerers, poisoned, arrested, you've taken a _mace_ to the chest, survived the touch of a dorocha," Arthur ignored the pricking in his eyes, "You've face immortal armies and a _dragon_. There is no way a single arrow that isn't even _real_ is going to be what kills you. I won't allow it," the king felt a flare of anger, "And how _dare_ you ask me to give up on you? How many deadly creatures have you faced with me? How many battles have you fought by my side? How many times have you had faith in me when even I had given up? And now I'm supposed to just let you die? No. No, it's my turn to hold on to hope. It's my turn to pull us through. So don't you give up either. Not now."

Merlin absorbed the speech, looking touched. But after a short moment, his face shifted to a look of amused annoyance.

"W'sn't… g'ving up… prat…" the servant whispered. The corner of his blood stained mouth quirked up.

"What?" Arthur's brow folded in confusion, "But you…"

"Cryst'l… won't… hold," the servant swallowed heavily, "If I… die here… go to it… too m'ch… p'wer… break…"

Arthur stared as he tried to process what his dying friend had told him.

"Are you sure?" the king asked earnestly, "If I let you die and be collected to the crystal, it'll break? Just like that?"

Merlin nodded, coughing a little.

"Five's… too m'ny…" the servant sighed, eyes slipping closed.

"Merlin!" Arthur said sharply. Merlin managed to drag his eyes half open to meet Arthur's gaze, "How do you know this will work?"

"Gaius…" Merlin's eyes drifted shut again, "tol' me… 'bout cryst'ls."

"But," Arthur said urgently, "How can you be sure this one won't be able to hold you?"

Merlin smiled softly, pulling weighted eyelids open once more to meet his friend's worried gaze.

"Trust me… Arth'r…" his eyes fell closed, but his smile stayed in place, "It'll… be… alright."

Arthur let out a small, watery laugh. Even now, Merlin was reassuring him, trying to give him the strength to do what needed to be done. The servant had a way of making him believe he could do anything. But not this. He couldn't do _this_…

"Merlin," Arthur said, shaking his head, "Let's wait. Let's just wait and give Gwen a chance, alright? Merlin?"

The servant stayed silent.

"Merlin?" Arthur jostled him. Merlin's head rolled loosely on his arm, face slack and still and pale as he'd been after the dorocha attack. The king lifted his shaking hand to Merlin's neck and was only slightly reassured by the fluttering pulse.

"Come on," Arthur growled, shaking the servant more violently, "Wake up!"

Tears sprang to his eyes. He didn't understand what was happening—how could someone fall unconscious in a dream?—but he knew it wasn't good. Merlin was fading, body and spirit. His friend's last request for Arthur's trust throbbed in the young king's mind.

"How do I do this, Merlin?" He looked desperately into the still face of his friend, longing for the reassurances and wisdom that Merlin had always given him. He wasn't ready for this goodbye, and he never would be.

_Trust me._

It was as if he could hear Merlin's voice in his ear.

"Alright," Arthur choked on the word, "But if you're not right about this, you're fired."

Arthur pulled his friend close and let out a shaky breath. Then, he forced himself to admit that no one could survive long with a wound such as this.

Merlin's breathing stuttered.

Arthur felt something tear in his own chest.

His servant's body had been through too much. It was unbelievable that he had lasted this long, but there was no way he could last any longer.

Merlin heaved a final, lingering sigh.

He didn't breathe again.

Arthur's eyes spilled over, and he pulled the limp body to his chest. It didn't matter that he was a king and Merlin was a servant. It never really had. He was just a man mourning the loss of his best friend.

Merlin was dead.

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Arthur woke to a screech of laughter.

"It's done! I've done it!"

Arthur sat up, groggily. Not ten feet from him, Gwen was standing with her sword drawn. She wasn't attacking, but shielding her eyes from a blinding light. He turned and had to squint as he found the source of the glow.

Edith was stood, grinning manically as she stared into the crystal in her hands. It was no longer pulsing and shimmering gently. It was burning bright as the sun, and there was a throbbing hum of energy coursing through the air around it. The light grew brighter still, and Arthur saw Edith's face shift from glee to panic.

"No, no, this shouldn't be happening," she said, voice rising in pitch, "There shouldn't be this much!"

Arthur screwed his eyes shut and turned his face away as the light grew unbearable to look at. Heat was rolling from the crystal now, and Arthur could barely hear Edith's frantic voice above the swelling roar of power.

"There's too much," she shrieked, "I can't control it!"

She screamed.

There was an earth shaking clap of thunder, and the sound of something shattering. The light gave a final, blasting pulse and was gone.

Arthur sat up slowly, gazing around. Gwen stood, whole and well, looking just as stunned as he felt. They locked eyes for a moment before looking back towards Edith… or rather, where Edith had been.

There was no sign of the former servant. She was simply gone. Arthur stood and looked closer. All that was left was a scorch mark on the ground, and the crystal. Arthur picked up the now harmless piece of rock. Its once clear surface had turned murky smoke black, and a deep crack ran through it from end to end.

"Arthur," said Gwen softly, reaching out and running her finger over the split in the crystal. She shook her head in bewilderment. "What happened?"

The king smiled, drawing his queen into his arms.

"It's over," he said with a sigh. There might yet be a cost to this victory. Arthur did not know if his friends were truly alright, but he believed they would be.

He hoped.

* * *

_(AN: One more chapter.)_


	7. The End

_Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin_

* * *

On the way back to the castle, Gwen told Arthur what had happened after the sorceress put him to sleep. Gwen had tried to convince Edith to give up, both by talking to her and attacking her, trying to break the crystal. She didn't get far with either strategy, as Arthur woke up a only few minutes after he fell.

Arthur in turn told Gwen about his dream, though he didn't go into much detail. He wasn't ready to relive the experience of watching Merlin die—_letting_ him die—especially since he wasn't yet sure that his friend was alright.

The sun was starting to set, and the rest of the walk back out of the forest, through the town, and into the castle was very quiet.

Until they neared Gaius' chambers, and a voice came echoing down the halls.

"_Festering toadstool… Maggot-grubbing… Wildren-loving PUSS BUCKET!_"

Arthur's eyebrows rose, and Gwen blushed. They locked eyes.

"Gwaine," they said as one, jogging the last few yards to the Gaius' room.

Entering the room, they saw the knight in question right away. He seemed to be making up for his time asleep—he was practically bouncing off the walls.

"Sire," Gaius called from the cot where he was examining Percival, "Are you both alright?"

"Yes," replied Arthur, "But—"

"… Bulging gob of mule-licking _frog spawn_!" Gwaine was obviously trying to keep his voice down now, but his stream of creative profanity didn't seem likely to stop any time soon.

"The knight's are experiencing some… discomfort," Gaius explained, "The body is not meant to lie still for days on end. There's cramping of muscles and—"

"Pins and needles," Gwaine said, abandoning his stream of curses, but still moving about the room ceaselessly, shaking his limbs, "Pins and needles everywhere, and when I say everywhere, I mean _everywhere_."

Surveying his knights, Arthur could see signs of their discomfort. He saw it in the slight green tinge of Percival's face, Elyan's clenched jaw, and way Leon kept shifting where he stood. But they were all awake and whole and sound, and it was just about the best thing Arthur had ever seen. Still, there was one person missing.

He caught Gaius' eye, who gave him a small nod.

"Gwen," the physician said, "I wonder if you might help the knights find their way to the kitchens. The walk will do them good, as will some real food," all of the men's faces brightened, "Just don't let them overdo it," the physician added, with a significant glance at Gwaine.

"Of course, Gaius," Gwen smiled lead the four very stiff and sore knights out of the room.

Arthur waited until the door had closed behind them before speaking.

"How are they really, Gaius?"

"Better than I expected, actually," the physician answered, "It will take them a few days to feel normal, and a few more to recover their full strength, especially Elyan and Percival. There should be no lasting physical effects. And mentally, they seem very strong. I told them all I could of what happened when they woke, and the last thing most of them could remember was falling asleep. Leon is the only one who even remembers the dream."

"Good," Arthur said, "That's good."

"I presume you and Gwen destroyed the source of the spell," Gaius said.

"We never got the chance to," he proceeded to tell Gaius about meeting Edith in the woods, about his last dream, about Merlin's plan, and the subsequent destruction of the crystal and the sorceress.

"So," Arthur finished, "Merlin must have been right. The crystal couldn't hold when his energy was added to it."

"No," said Gaius, with a grim sort of smile Arthur didn't understand, "It certainly could not."

The king had been throwing glances at the door to Merlin's room since he entered the physician's chambers, but now, he couldn't bring himself to ask about the servant. He shifted from foot to foot, arms crossed, as Gaius looked at him expectantly. It was obvious that the old physician knew what Arthur wanted to ask but was waiting for the young royal to actually say the words.

"Is, um," Arthur paused, clearing his throat and trying to look disinterested, "How is Merlin?"

"He is resting, Sire," Gaius said, looking slightly amused, "I moved him to his own bed a while ago."

"Resting?" Arthur said incredulously, "But the others are up and about."

"The other's didn't spend half a day throwing themselves around in fits," Gaius said rather harshly, "I was finally able to get some broth into him, but Merlin's strength is spent. Every muscle in his body has been overworked, not to mention the many bruises and the possible concussion he sustained when he started to seize. His physical recovery may take longer than the knights', and I can't speak to his mental state, since he barely woke earlier."

"But he was awake?" Arthur said eagerly. Gaius' face softened slightly.

"Yes, sire," the physician replied, "I'm sure he will be fine, but it will take time."

"Right," Arthur said, shifting uncomfortably again, "Well…"

This time, Gaius took pity on him.

"You can go and look in on him, as long as you don't wake him."

The king grinned gratefully and headed toward the small room.

"Sire," Arthur turned back to Gaius, "Don't stay too long. I think a trip to the kitchens would do you good as well."

Arthur nodded before turning back to the closed door. He swallowed once, then pushed it open as quietly as he could.

One look at Merlin showed him he needn't have bothered about being quiet. The servant was sleeping deeply, breaths heavy and even, body sinking snugly into the mattress. He looked peaceful and totally relaxed.

Arthur felt a knot in his stomach loosen at the sight. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, and resisted waking Merlin to ask him if he was truly alright, what he remembered, and what exactly had happened. Instead, he leaned forward and gripped his servant's wrist. He held on for a moment, just long enough to take in the strong, thrumming pulse and warmth of his _not_ dead friend. Then, nodding to himself, he left Merlin to rest.

The king decided to follow Gaius' advice and head to the kitchens. Not only was he exceptionally hungry—he felt as though he hadn't eaten a proper meal since all of this started—but he needed to be with his knights. He needed to see them talking and laughing. He needed to see Percival help Gwaine make a fool of himself while Elyan rolled his eyes and Leon tried not to laugh. He needed to answer their questions and ask his own. And maybe, just maybe, surrounded by warmth and friendship, he'd finally be able to fall into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Over the next few days, the knights recovered as Gaius said they would. They were eager to rebuild their strength—in and out of training. Like a pen full of unruly puppies, they wrestled, raced, and let out their pent-up energy throughout the whole day and often into the night. They were also about as coordinated as wriggly pups for the first few days, but they were determined to spend as much time as they could on the move.

It was not so with Merlin.

The servant was utterly exhausted. He woke for brief snatches, saying just enough to reassure everyone that he really was alright before dropping off again.

With Merlin out of action and Edith _really _out of action, both Gwen and Arthur were using palace servants. Though Gwen was forming a tentative friendship with hers, Arthur interacting with his as little as possible. The man had committed the horrible sin of not being Merlin, so the king found fault with almost everything the man did—from his polite, "Good morning, Your Royal Highness," to the way he bowed out of the room at evening.

That, obviously, was the main reason King Arthur was headed to the physician's chambers for the second time in a day. It was the third morning since the spell had been stopped, and Merlin had yet to wake up long enough to hold a proper conversation and tell his master when he would be back to work. With this in mind, Arthur entered Gaius' rooms and strode quickly to Merlin's door.

He paused before entering when he heard a hushed conversation inside.

"…wouldn't want to be the one trying to control _your_ power, Merlin," Gaius was chuckling.

"Yeah, she definitely wasn't prepared for me," Arthur could hear the answering smile in Merlin's voice, "I was afraid I wouldn't be able to do it for a minute. Took a bit of… p-pushing."

The servant was apparently still very tired, yawning as he spoke. Gaius apparently noticed as well.

"I'll let you rest some more," the physician said. Arthur quickly stole back across the chamber and out the door. He paused for a few moments to clear the odd conversation from his mind before knocking.

"Yes?" Gaius called. Arthur entered, "Ah, sire, I wonder if I might ask a favor of you. Merlin's woken up, and he more alert than before. Would you sit with him while I step out for some supplies?"

"Of course, Gaius," the king replied, trying not to let his eagerness show, "I have some time to spare."

As the physician smiled and left, Arthur turned and crossed to Merlin's door. He entered the small room, but stopped after a few steps. The servant's eyes were shut; it seemed that he had fallen asleep already. The king stood in the doorway, sighing in disappointment.

"Well, don't just stand there huffing and puffing," Merlin spoke brightly, though his eyes were still closed, "Come in, make yourself at home."

Arthur unconsciously let out another huff of annoyance, and Merlin grinned broadly. Even so, the king did as the servant said, seating himself on a stool beside the bed.

"How're the knights?" Merlin asked, eyes slitting open.

"Fine," Arthur replied, "Better than fine, actually—they're tearing the castle apart. Yesterday, I caught Gwaine sliding down a banister."

"That's not very surprising."

"Leon was about to follow him down."

Merlin snorted.

"That's nothing," Arthur continued, "This morning, I went down to the forest with a patrol. We passed under these two big mulberry trees, and I heard some rustling. I looked up, and there's Percival and Elyan, one in each tree. Elyan at least had the decency to look embarrassed, but Percival just smiled and waved."

Merlin was laughing weakly, hands holding his stomach. He still looked so tired—he could barely raise his head.

"What about you?" Arthur asked.

"What about me?" Merlin shot back, quirking an eyebrow.

"How're you feeling?"

"Tired," Merlin sighed, "Really, insanely, stupidly tired. How've you been?"

Arthur was unsurprised at the inquiry. Worrying about others and deflecting attention from himself were two of Merlin's defining features.

"I'm alright," the king said, "I still can't believe it's over. I keep expecting to wake up and find someone else in danger."

"Are you still having nightmares?"

"No," Arthur answered without hesitation. It wasn't really a lie. He didn't fully remember his last dream. It hadn't been pleasant, and it had left him with a desperate urge to check on all his friends again. Still, it wasn't anything like the dreams the spell had created. "What about you? Any strange dreams since…?"

"No," Merlin said, "I think I've been too exhausted to dream at all."

"Yeah." Remembering the conversation he overheard, Arthur decided to push a little more, "It must have taken a lot out of you to break that crystal."

A strange mix of fear and pride flashed in the servant's eyes, but it was gone so quickly that Arthur thought he might have imagined it.

"I don't really remember that," said Merlin, "But it might've, yeah, I guess."

"What do you remember?" the king asked, not meeting the servant's eyes.

"Pretty much everything else," Merlin sighed, rubbing his chest unconsciously.

"I'm sorry," the words escaped Arthur's mouth before he could stop them.

Merlin looked at him sharply.

"Don't be," he said sincerely. Then, a mischievous grin spread on his face, "There's one thing from the dream I won't soon forget."

Arthur didn't like where this was headed.

"It's actually really nice to know, Arthur," the servant continued in mock sincerity, "How you'll never give up on me, because I've always pulled you through, faced every foe with you, stayed by your side through thick and thin…"

"Oh, shut up," Arthur slouched back into his chair, face turning a bit red.

"No, seriously," Merlin continued, fighting back laughter, "It was nice to see you get in touch with your emotions. It's good to let those feelings out. I'm sure the knights will agree."

"Merlin," Arthur said dangerously, "If you tell another soul what I said, I swear I'll—"

"You'll what, cry on me?"

"I'll put you on stable duty for a month solid," Arthur said, with a merciless sneer, "And in your free time, I'll be sure to have some nice chamber pots for you to scrub. People will be able to smell you coming for _miles._"

Merlin looked hurt.

"You'd do that to the person who's had faith in you even when you'd given up on yourself?"

"In a heartbeat," Arthur leaned against the wall, crossing his arms.

"Some great king _you _are," the servant pouted, yawning, "Dunno what Gwen sees in you..."

The king couldn't help but smile as he closed his eyes.

"Go to sleep, Merlin."

"…cabbage-head."

The insult was little more than a sleeping sigh.

"Idiot."

The End

* * *

_(AN: That's it! I hope you enjoyed it :) Thanks so much for reading this to the end, and extra-special, chocolate-covered thanks to those of you who reviewed. You guys rock.)_


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